


Fighting For the Future

by nightwizard27



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Child Abuse, Disturbing Themes, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, POV Alternating, Romance, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwizard27/pseuds/nightwizard27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John and Sherlock are called on a case, John notices similarities to the victims and a secret hidden deep in his past. Will he and Sherlock be able to find the killer before he claims more victims? With John once again dragged back into the darkness of his past and the pressure of their new secret relationship rising, Sherlock will have to find a way to save John before he is no longer able to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Case

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is trigger heavy, so if anything in the tags will trigger you, please don't read! Also, this is my first fanfic and I'm writing for fun, so please don't be too harsh. Also, I don't own any of the character, that all belongs to the wonderful writers of the show. Enjoy!

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade sighed, clutching his almost empty cup of coffee in his hand, and looked down at the body in front of him. Male. Blonde. Blue eyes. Looked to be in his early twenties.

His thoughts were cut short by a commotion coming from outside the room at the edge of the crime scene, and he looked up to see Sherlock arguing with one of his officers. ‘Must be new’ he thought, from the way the officer was starting to redden and blubber. John stood to Sherlock’s right looking sheepish and trying to calm the situation. Greg quickly made his way over the tape and waved them through. “They’re with me” he said and pulled up the crime scene tape which Sherlock and John ducked under.

“Just as I told you Officer Johnson. Lestrade, show me to the body” Sherlock immediately ordered in a brisk manner. Greg pinched the bridge of his nose (a habit picked up from John) and waved his hand towards the body. “Have at it Sherlock” he had to call out as Sherlock was already walking over to the dead man. “Thanks for that Greg” John said in an undertone as they followed Sherlock. “He’s been in a strop all day after Mycroft visited earlier”. “It’s no problem John, we both know he doesn’t work well with the new recruits”. John just snorted at this admission and Greg watched as he turned towards Sherlock who was moving around the room, now muttering to himself and waving his hands around.

“John! You’re opinion quickly before Anderson shows up and destroys the entire crime scene!” Sherlock ordered. John made his way over the body and Greg followed to hear what the doctor had to say. John bent down and Greg watched as he methodically inspected the body. It was only because he was watching John’s face that he saw the brief horrified look and quick flash of terror in the blue eyes before the doctor’s features smoothed over once more and he responded to Sherlock.

“He’s a male in his early twenties, closer to twenty if I had to guess, uni student, planning on enlisting if he hasn’t already. Bruising around the neck suggests strangulation, however the ligature marks on his body suggest he was severely beaten beforehand and was already dying from blood loss by the time the asphyxiation occurred.” John stood up and looked at Sherlock for confirmation, and Sherlock nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well done John. Your deduction skills are improving. You missed almost everything of significance though”.

Greg suppressed a snort at the insult and waited for Sherlock to deduce the rest of the situation. He kept his eyes fixed on John though, hoping to find out if he could determine what had frightened John earlier. However as soon as Sherlock started rattling off his deduction, he had to follow the motions Sherlock was making while pointing out things on the body that proved what the detective was saying.

“This man was a university student studying medicine and had already attended basic training for the army and was shipping out relatively soon. John was right about the beating, however this man also was sexually assaulted and drugged here” Sherlock pointed to a spot in the crook of the man’s elbow before continuing. “He was held somewhere underground shown by the dirt in his hair, and was restrained during his captivity. The perpetrater, obviously male by the show of dominance, also branded him suggesting that he is either trying to relive a previous experience or has killed or raped in the past and you should look for previous unsolved cases of males around this age that have this brand. Once Molly analyzes the data you should have a clear idea of the perpetrator since it’s obvious he didn’t use protection. A DNA sample should provide an easy enough reason for arrest along with any past cases you find. Dull, Lestrade, call me when you get a case worth looking at”. Sherlock finished.

Greg rolled his eyes “Thanks for taking a look Sherlock, I’ll keep you updated once Molly gets the results and my team looks through cold cases”. He watched as John gave Sherlock a look and was surprised when Sherlock looked sufficiently cowed and actually started to thank him. “As always, I appreciate you letting me in on this case.” Sherlock mumbled before turning and calling out “Come along John, back to the flat”.

Both John and Greg watched as he rushed out of the room and then Greg turned back to John. “Drinks later tonight? There’s a new football game on tonight.” He watched as John grinned. “Of course Greg, look forward to it. Now I better go catch up to Sherlock before he leaves me at the scene again”. They both chucked at that and then John trotted off after Sherlock. Greg let out a final sigh before motioning other officer’s forwards to take care of the scene before heading out to his patrol car, driving back to the yard to file paperwork before going home and getting ready for a night at the pub with John.

                                                ************************************************

After returning to their flat, Sherlock flopped down on the coach watching John head to the kitchen to make tea. Of course he had noticed the look on John’s face when inspecting the body. Ever since he and John had started…dating? Was it dating? Only two weeks ago they had entered into whatever they were now, and he found himself watching John more closely at crime scenes. He loved watching John watch him deduce, the love and admiration clear in John’s eyes. Sherlock also enjoyed the effort John put into the deductions on the bodies so that he would make Sherlock proud.

Therefore when he had seen the emotions on John’s face change, he had been worried. John had immediately schooled his features however for the rest of the scene and Sherlock hadn’t been able to decipher the reason behind the change. Steepling his fingers in his thinking pose he entered into his mind palace, the body flashing before his eyes. The similarities between the victim and John were frightfully similar, but no matter how many times he worked through it, he saw no reason why John would have reacted in such a matter. Sentiment maybe due to similar career choices? No. The good doctor was empathetic, but he had seen too many dead bodies by this time to suddenly get sentimental by this one.

Sherlock was pulled out of his thoughts by John’s voice and hand on his shoulder. “Sherlock, Sherlock, I know you’re thinking and don’t want me to disturb you, but I’m off to the pub with Greg and won’t be back ‘till late. Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone” John pleaded. Sherlock gave him a look of consternation before glancing at John’s other hand which held freshly brewed tea he now held out to the detective. After taking the cup and accepting a quick goodbye kiss from John, he watched the doctor grab his jacket and keys before throwing a last goodbye over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Sipping his tea, Sherlock made his way over the kitchen where his newest experiment on ears was currently spread out. Setting his mind to the task he lost himself in his microscope and the chemicals surrounding him. It was not until much later that he heard Mrs. Hudson clattering up the stairs. “Yoo-hoo Sherlock! I made you some nice biscuits, your favorite. Just this once though dear. Oh goodness! Ears Sherlock?” “Yes Mrs. Hudson, ears. A very important experiment. And I don’t have time for your theatrics.” Sherlock sighed. Even though he didn’t eat during cases, the smell of the biscuits wafted across his senses and he knew once Mrs. Hudson left he would be tempted to eat them. “Oh you poor dear, no new cases?” Sherlock turned away from his microscope to eye his landlady. “A good one, Mrs. Hudson, however John felt the need to go to a pub with Lestrade and I am under orders to not find the killer on my own”.

He watched the delighted smile Mrs. Hudson bestowed on him after hearing that John was looking out for him. Ever since they had revealed their secret relationship to her she was always bringing them treats and teasing them about the noise. She hadn’t been surprised however, not like he had been when John had told him how he felt, and for that he was relieved because she had not felt the need to make it a big deal. Not like he feared Mycroft, the fat git, or the yarders would. “Well I’m off to my bridge club. Say hello to John for me dear.” Mrs. Hudson said before setting the tray on the stove (the only clean space in the kitchen) and heading back down the stairs. Once she was gone, he ate the still warm biscuits before returning to his experiment and awaiting John’s return.

                                                ***************************************************

Heading back to the flat after the game ended, John clenched his fists, constantly glancing around. The case today was too similar to _HIM_. It has been too many years for _HIM_ to remember John. Not only that, _HE_ was in jail, serving a life sentence. There was no way _HE_ was responsible. Even if he could still feel the brand hot against his skin and feel the hiss of a belt or whip on his back. ‘And even if there were similarities between him and the case today, it was probably just coincidence’ his mind supplied. Besides, he had Sherlock now. Sherlock, his brilliant and beautiful genius. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the past, not when Sherlock needed him. He hadn’t believed when Sherlock had reciprocated his feelings instead of telling John to leave

                **“Sherlock” John said reaching out and taking Sherlock’s hand. He gazed into the grey-blue orbs in front of him, the wild curly black hair merely accentuating the pale features Sherlock sported. “I just can’t” he said simply. “When you pointed my gun at the bomb and I was sure we were both going to die, I was so angry, both with you and me. I was so mad you had thrown your life away for the chance at the game, trying to prove you were more clever.” John sighed shaking his head slightly, his eyes continuing to flicker over Sherlock’s features trying to gauge his reactions. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Sherlock, and I know that you’re married to your work and everything but” here he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening his eyes again. “I love you Sherlock, I love you so much, and it’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I’ll leave, or we can just continue to be friends and I’ll still chase after you and take care of you, but I had to let you know”. John finished calmly, then before his courage left him, he hesitantly raised himself to his tiptoes and pushed his lips against Sherlock’s. John moaned at the sensation, and licked Sherlock’s bottom lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. He heard Sherlock gasp against him, and John used this opportunity to push his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth and explore. When John finally needed a breath and pulled back, he looked at his friend and flat mate. Sherlock showed no change in emotion and John’s face fell. Closing his eyes again briefly he waited for the inevitable rejection. Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it, no sound escaping. Once, twice more this happened before his mask crumbled and he reached out and clutched John to him again, kissing him fiercely. They both moaned before Sherlock broke the kiss, “Oh John, I believe I’ve cared for you since you shot that damned cabby all those months ago. I would never want you to leave”. He stated before pulling John to him again and peppering the doctor’s face with kisses. “Partners” he whispered. “Now and forever”.**

And with this in mind, John continued to reassure himself as he stepped into the flat that it was all just coincidence, that after today everything would be fine and normal again, especially when he would soon be wrapped in the arms of a brilliantly mad gorgeous detective.


	2. A Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT! Thought that I should warn you...if it's not your thing, feel free to skip to the second half of the story. Enjoy!

When Sherlock heard the door close and a jingle of keys, he smiled quickly, keeping his eyes on the microscope and current experiment, knowing John was going to come over. And he did. Sherlock heard John making tea, and as soon as the stove was turned on, he felt arms wrap around his middle and lips gently pushed onto his curls. He relaxed into the touches as John asked “Tea Sherlock? And I see Mrs. Hudson came by again”.  


Sherlock hummed back a response and finally tore his body away from the microscope to turn towards John. As soon as he was facing his… lover? Hmm…‘need to talk to John about preferred word to describe our relationship’, he captured John’s lips with his. His hand rested on John’s waist and he moaned softly as one of John’s hands moved to his hair and lightly caressed and tugged. Sherlock soon found himself lost in the sensations, mind going blissfully blank.  


After a few minutes of the gently kissing, the whistle of the kettle broke through Sherlock’s haze and when John pulled away to tend to the tea, he strode over to his chair where he pulled out his violin and hacked out a few chords while waiting for the tea to steep and John to come join him. John didn’t disappoint, and soon a cup of fresh tea rested next to him and John sat comfortably in his own chair sipping his tea watching Sherlock play. Sherlock observed as John closed his eyes and listened to the song Sherlock was now playing. A soothing melody that he knew John loved. Sherlock kept track as a myriad of emotions flickered over John’s face through the course of the song, and when it was done, the detective found himself lost in John’s stormy blue eyes. “Beautiful” he heard John say. “Thanks for playing for me Sherlock. I’m off to bed then”.  


Sherlock watched as John stood up and brought his empty cup to the sink before heading to their bedroom, Sherlock thought satisfyingly. Soon after the day of confessions, they had decided that sharing a room was easier and more comfortable. Sherlock had also noted that John had less nightmares when they slept together, and he had to admit that he quite enjoyed wrapping the smaller man in his long limbs and feeling John breathe against his chest. After drinking his now cold tea and placing it next to John’s in the sink, he too retired to the bedroom where he knew John would be waiting.  


After hastily undressing and pulling on his pajama bottoms, he climbed onto the bed waiting for John to finish preparing for sleep. Soon the bathroom door opened and closed, and Sherlock watched John come back into the room, dressed in pants and a t-shirt. He had never seen John completely naked in the light, and couldn’t wait to catalogue every bit of John and file it away in his mind palace. However whenever he had tried to take off John’s shirt with the light on, John had distracted him with something else. Sherlock didn’t mind though. It would happen eventually and he just figured John was nervous about his gunshot wound.  


Now though, looking at John who was climbing onto the bed to join him, Sherlock couldn’t care less about clothing. John turned the light off as soon as he was in the bed, and as soon as it was off, Sherlock pulled the smaller man into himself and kissed him passionately, tongues battling for dominance. Sherlock felt John’s warm calloused hands running up and down his back, then onto his chest, flitting over Sherlock’s nipples, which pebbled quickly and Sherlock gasped into John’s mouth at the mixed sensations. John soon had Sherlock on his back and his mouth trailed a hot line of kisses from mouth the neck, where the doctor sucked and bit, marking Sherlock as his. Sherlock groaned in pleasure, loving that if he were to take off his scarf, the world would know he was Johns, and John was his.  


He got distracted from these thoughts, as John moved from Sherlock’s neck downwards, tongue flicking over a nipple, and then latching on, gently sucking and biting moving back and forth from one pebbled nipple to the other. Sherlock gasped and squirmed under John’s expert ministrations. His hands moved to the bottom of John’s t-shirt, and he hastily drew it up, John following along, and as soon as the shirt was off, Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s back, feeling bumps where he knew old scars must lay. He barely noticed with John divested them both of their pants, his only thoughts centered on the kisses moving lower, down his chest to his stomach, and when John’s blew softly on the head of his erect cock, he moaned louder, gasping out John’s name.  


“John, John, pleeaasee John” he whimpered as John continued to blow and place small kisses on his cock. “Yes John Yes!” He cried out feeling wet heat surround his cock as John took all of him into his mouth at once. He moaned and gasped, hands clutching the sheets as he watched John’s head bob up and down and he felt the doctor hum, causing delicious vibrations against his throbbing member. “John, John, I’m so close John” Sherlock cried out, as John clutched his hips, forcing him not to thrust into John’s mouth. However just as Sherlock was about to come, John released his cock with a wet pop.  


Sherlock groaned in frustration. “Take me Sherlock, I want you in me, filling me up with your hard cock, please Sherlock” John whispered into Sherlock’s ear after shimmying up Sherlock’s body. The detective pulled John into a searing kiss before flipping them and grabbing the small bottle of lube he knew rested on the night stand. He quickly poured some onto his fingers and gently circled John’s entrance with a now wet finger, teasing him until John groaned and writhed underneath him, and Sherlock pushed his finger into John’s heat. John gasped in pleasure. “More, more, please more luv” he cried.  


Soon Sherlock had two fingers in, scissoring and stretching and thrusting into John. Every other thrust, he would brush against John’s prostrate, causing the Doctor to moan his name. Smiling, Sherlock added a third finger, scissoring a few more times. “Please Sherlock, just fuck me already! I want you so bad. I want your cock in me, fucking me senseless, please Sherlock baby”. Sherlock groaned in pleasure at John’s words and adjusted them so that John was wrapping his legs around John’s waist and Sherlock’s member lightly pushed as the doctor’s entrance. “Now Sherlock now!” Sherlock couldn’t deny his John any longer, and thrust in slowly, groaning in pleasure as head surrounded him. He started thrusting in and out, making sure to hit John’s sweet spot.  


Soon they were both utterly incoherent, only moaning and thrusting. “So close John, you’re so tight, so perfect” Sherlock groaned, bringing his hand to wrap around John’s leaking cock, moving up and down. “Come for me John, come for me now”, and Sherlock watched as John did just that, screaming Sherlock’s name as the detective captured John’s mouth in a kiss, drowning out the noise, and muffling his own scream as he came into John, riding out his orgasm, mind completely blank from the otherwise constant stream of thoughts. Still kissing gently now, Sherlock pulled out of John, and quickly got a wet warm flannel to wipe them both down.  


Gently, he wiped off John’s come from both their stomachs, and then his from in between John’s legs watching John’s relaxed face smiling at him. He threw the flannel across the room into a hamper, then grabbed their clothes off the floor, pulling his pants back on and helping John into his own clothes. After the cleanup, John pulled him into the bed and Sherlock followed obediently, wrapping the smaller man into his arms, limbs entwined. “I love you Sherlock” Sherlock heard John mutter happily before the doctors breathing evened out and he fell into a satisfied sleep. The detective waited until he knew John was deeply asleep before kissing his blonde hair and whispering back “I love you, John”.  


*****************************************************  


John woke up the next morning smiling as he felt the warm body still wrapped around him. Usually Sherlock was gone, working on some experiment by the time he woke up. He yawned and snuggled closer, enjoying the contact, lifting his hand up to run through Sherlock’s hair. He smiled happily and Sherlock purred in his sleep and held John closer. This went on for a bit longer until the sound of Sherlock’s phone ringing roused the detective from his sleep. John watched as the pale man blinked wearily, blue-grey eyes zeroing in on John. John leaned in to capture a quick kiss before wriggling out of Sherlock’s grasp and handing him the ringing phone.  


Then he rose and left to take a quick shower before they had to leave. Fifteen minutes later, he sat in his chair reading the paper nibbling on toast waiting for Sherlock to finish getting ready. It didn’t take the detective long, and John soon caught sight of Sherlock in fitted black pants, and the purple shirt he knew John loved. The doctor suppressed a grin. “Call from Lestrade?” he asked Sherlock and he watched the detective throw on his coat and scarf. “Not only did the DNA test come back inconclusive and the yarders where unable to match the mark to former victims, another body had been found! Oh, it’s Christmas John. This is turning into a serial killer! How exciting. The game, John! Come along now. We have to meet Lestrade at the new crime scene”.  


John sighed and grabbed his coat following after Sherlock, trying not to think about the possibility that it was HIM after all. Keeping his features as schooled and normal as possible, he joined Sherlock in a cab and determined not to let anything show at the crime scene. Soon they had arrived and he was left to pay the cabbie as Sherlock leapt out to find Lestrade. John just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose after paying the cabbie, and walked over to the police tape. He could hear Sherlock already starting on his deductions.  


“Same physical features as the last man, however this time the victim was younger, just entering university and was a pre-med student. Diligent in his work, came from a poor abusive background and was more tolerant to the pain the killer dealt him. This man was also sexually abused, however not as severely as the last. DNA was left, but it is clear from the last victim that this will not help since…oh! Of course! The killer is adding chemicals to disrupt any DNA found! Brilliant I must say for a criminal. Same brand on the right shoulder. John! I assume that this man died of asphyxiation as well?” Sherlock concluded and John nodded in agreement, stomach tightening.  


He felt his hands clench and unclench and his left hand shook slightly. Not wanting Sherlock to notice his discomfort, he made sure his features remained slightly awestruck and remarked “Brilliant” like he usually did to appease Sherlock. It seemed to work, because Sherlock soon was back to flitting about the room every once in a while shouting out random observations.  


John moved over to Greg, who he noticed had deep bags under his eyes and was sporting his usual cup of coffee. “Rough night Greg?” John asked lightly. Anything to keep his mind off the scene in front of him. Lestrade sighed. “Been up all night dealing with the last victim, and just as I was catching up on missed sleep, got a call about this new one”. John gave him a sympathetic look before they were both interrupted by Sherlock.  


“Lestrade, you’re looking for a man who was recently released from prison, has a history of sexual abuse of minors, specifically those with blonde hair and blue eyes. Most likely his first or last name starts with M due to the brand. Also, this man is probably only using these victims as a place holder for a previous person that he deems important to him. Therefore, until he reaches the object of his desire, you’re more likely to find more bodies. Call me when you find any more information. John, hurry, we need to talk to Molly”.  


“Minors Sherlock? Why do you say minors? Both the victims so far have been in university”. Greg questioned. Sherlock just gave him an annoyed look. “The victims are getting younger each time, and as they get younger, the violence decreases. Also, note the brand. It’s quite small for an adult to place on another adult. Therefore it was originally meant for a younger victim”. Greg nodded and turned back to the body.  


John watched as Sherlock turned quickly and rushed to find another cab. John closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. ‘A coincidence’ his mind supplied. The continued parallels between him and the victims. ‘A coincidence’. Repeating this mantra over and over again in his head, he gave a small smile to Greg, before following Sherlock into the stalling cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said everyother week and it hasn't quite been two, but I have relatives visiting and start a summer job soon, so I think I might be releasing chapters whenever I get a chance so keep a look out


	3. Keeping Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft learns about John's past. Meanwhile, Jack Morgan reflects and plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: child abuse and rape. If this is an issue, skip the bolded section.

Mycroft prided himself on knowing a great many things. And if he didn’t know something, he prided himself on the ability to find the information he desired. Therefore, when he caught wind of the new case Sherlock was working on, he immediately requested Anthea to have the file on his desk within the hour. He soon made the same deductions as Sherlock and gave another job to Anthea. Find the man who fit the profile to make sure that when Sherlock inevitably tracked him down so Mycroft could have agents ready to protect his brother.

Sherlock may think that Mycroft didn’t know about his new relationship with the doctor, but one of the recording devices in their flat hadn’t been found, and Mycroft heard the whole confession, shutting off the device as soon as he understood it was progressing to more. Protective he may be, but that had its limits, even for him. However this meant he was keeping an extra eye on them during cases knowing that if anyone else found out, it was a weakness he was not willing to let the criminals of London find out.

It was another hour before Anthea returned with the desired information. Picking up the file, Mycroft flipped through it, freezing as he read the name staring out at him in red print. “Anthea, have you read the file?” He asked his assistant calmly. He watched as she actually stopped typing on her blackberry giving him an inquisitive look. “No sir, I haven’t looked through it yet”. Mycroft nodded, then handed it to her, then watched as her eyes widened in shock as she read. “What I would like to know, is why this was not flagged and why it is not in his file?” Mycroft asked coolly. Anthea simply took in a deep, pained breath, before replying.

“It seems that since he was underage, his family wanted this buried sir, so it didn’t show up in his records”. Anger flashed in Mycroft’s eyes. “Why is the bastard out? Isn’t he serving a life sentence?” Anthea looked through the file again before giving it back to Mycroft and thumbing through her phone. “According to the prison sir, he’s out on parole for good behavior”. She replied. Mycroft steepled his fingers. “I want surveillance on my brother and the doctor increased. Nothing is to happen without me knowing about it” Mycroft said. Anthea nodded and left the office.

Sighing, the man who Sherlock called the British Government, pulled out a glass and poured himself a helpful serving of scotch. When his brother worked it out, there was going to be hell to pay.

                                                                                   *********************************************************

Jack Morgan was a simple man. Before prison, he had worked at a library, helping kids pick out books and providing a kind authority figure that could be trusted. It was during his time as a librarian that he met John Watson. He first encountered John when the boy was 8. The boy had spun-gold hair that glittered in the sunlight, and bright blue innocent eyes that sparkled when he laughed. However this was marred by the limping and bruises on John’s arms and around his neck. From that moment, Jack knew he had to protect him, had to make John safe from the world, make John his, and his alone. Jack remembered everything so clearly, and as he sat reading his boy’s blog, he replayed the memories in his head.

**As time passed, his obsession grew with everything he learned about John’s abusive father and sister. He talked to John whenever the boy came in and twisted his mind to feel guilt about what he did with his father. Jack dried his tears, cleaned his wounds, and let his own desire towards the kid fester and cultivate along with the manipulations. Soon he had convinced the boy that John needed him.**

**It was when John turned 13 that he decided John was old enough to finally become his completely. He already knew he owned John’s heart. All that was left was his body. He had already trained John to pleasure him with his mouth and hands, convincing him that what John’s father did was wrong, but what John did with Jack was love. Even though the boy was always hesitant, he still pleasured Jack and that was all he had needed. But now Jack needed more, wanted more. He had even manipulated John into believing that this was the proper thanks he deserved since this was how he sometimes thanked his father.**   
**Jack told John to tell his father that he was staying with friends for the weekend, while he himself convinced John that spending a weekend with him would provide a much needed break from his parents. The boy was so easy to mold and soon the fated weekend approached. Jack had been shaking with anticipation the entire Friday, and when he saw John show up at the Library with a bag slung over his shoulder, a grin broke on his face. It was pure torture waiting for his shift to be over so he could take John to his house. Once John was there he would have him forever.**

**When his shift finally ended, he drove John to his house. After they arrived, he gave the boy soda, something he knew the boy didn’t normally get and was a treat. John was smiling and after he had finished the can, he smiled hesitantly, then asked Jack if he could thank him properly. Grinning, Jack murmured of course. He watched with lust filled eyes as John unbuttoned his slacks and pulled down the fly pulling Jacks cock out. He held in a moan as John determinedly, yet tentatively licked the tip, already wet with pre come, before taking as much as he could in his mouth. Soon John was setting a pace, and Jack let out his moans of pleasure. However when he knew he was about to come, he gripped John’s hair and pulled him off.**

**He whispered that as much as he loved John, he wanted to show him more, show him how much he loved him. John had hesitantly agreed and Jack led him to the bedroom. Once there, he saw that the drugs from the soda were starting to take affect and John fell unconscious as he handcuffed the boy to the bed after stripping him completely.**

**You’re mine now John, he had whispered again and again. Once the boy was completely lucid and realized what was happening, he shook his head and pleaded with Jack to stop, to let him go. But Jack just licked his lips, tied a ball gag in John’s mouth, and pulled the brander out of the fire and brought it over to John, whose gorgeous eyes had gone wide in fright. As Jack pressed the M over John’s heart, he told John how everyone would know he was his now.**

**As soon as the brand was done, he dressed the wound and then undressed himself, preparing his John for the act that would unite them forever. His lubed fingered pushed into John and when he decided John was ready, he placed a cock ring on his boy. The child still had to be trained to only take him. It was then that he finally pushed his hard cock into the beautiful boy. His boy. His John. He made sure to hit the boy’s prostate, pleasing him but not letting him come. When he finally came in John and plugged him up, he looked at the tear filled eyes pleading with him. He shook his head sadly and told John that when he was a good boy he could come. Then Jack turned him on his back and went to retrieve the belt and whip he had prepared. His boy had to be punished for all the time he let his father have him. He was Jacks, only Jacks, and after today, everyone would know it forever.**

Unfortunately, Jack had only had the boy for a month before the cops found them and he was taken to prison, his John taken from him. But now he was back. Released from prison for good behavior. Even better, he had managed to bribe the mailers in the yard to not send his John the letter that Jack was out.

And how his boy had grown. He was no longer the small boy he used to be. No, even though it was hidden under the jumpers he still hadn’t outgrown, Jack could tell his John was fit. Fit and beautiful and only his. He had been furious when he learned that John was living with the detective, however, he couldn’t let this ruin his plans.

Months had gone into this planning, and even his place holders were no longer enough. It was time to take back what was his. Soon soon soon, his mind taunted. Unable to fight his straining erection as he looked at pictures of John, he turned to his new place holder, handcuffed to the bed, a ball gag in his mouth. Grinning, he divested himself of his pants and took the blond boy in front of him, calling out Johns’ name as he came, before placing his hands around the kids’ neck and ending his life. Soon soon soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, I've been in an area with no wifi. Enjoy!


	4. New Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sally finds some new information and Lestrade confronts John.

Sally Donovan had woken up feeling awful the other day, so Lestrade had stuck her with research instead of going to the crime scenes. While she was glad she didn’t have to deal with the Freak, sitting in a small room looking though case after case got tedious quickly. This was the twenty second file she was looking through, and still nothing even remotely resembling the case stood out.  


Sighing, Sally placed it on the pile she had named ‘Incredibly Unhelpful’ and then reached for the next. When she opened this file however, she stopped short, and then leaned in to make sure she was seeing correctly. No doubt about it. And there were similarities. She groaned. She respected the Doctor, and Sally did not want to be the one to reveal this new information.  


Standing up, she quickly brought the dreaded file up the Lestrade’s office after quickly checking for release records. “Donovan, found something useful?” Lestrade greeted. “Sir. I’ve found something, but I sure to god hope there’s something else”. Lestrade gave Sally a look and then held out his hand. Sally put the file in his hand and watched as he flipped it open and started reading. Surprise turned to horror and he got farther into the file.  


Once he was done, he looked back at her, his face pale and more tired looking than she had ever seen. “It fits the description Sherlock gave us all right. The file says that this Jack Morgan is in prison for life though”. Sally just nodded. “Out on good behavior sir. Seems that he was released a month ago”. Lestrade shook his head. “Was John notified?” “Not that I can tell sir”. Both officers looked at each other until Lestrade sighed. “We’ll have to talk to him. Especially if this bastard it out, he needs to know that he needs to be on his guard. Also, if Sherlock was right, that means this Morgan will probably be going after John soon. Is there anything we can bring Morgan in for?”  


“No sir, from what I saw, he’s being a model citizen. Even got a job at a library again”. Both looked pained at this until they were interrupted by Lestrade’s phone ringing. “Lestrade” he answered. Sally watched him take the call, knowing that another body had been found as soon as she heard a “Where and when?” After Lestrade hung up his phone, he turned back to Sally. “Donovan, I know you’re still recovering, but I need you back on this one. You’re one of the only other people to have read this file and I want to keep it on the down low until we have more evidence that it might be him. I’ll try to pull John aside at the scene and see if he knows anything”.  


Sally nodded. “Of course sir, lead the way”. Both left the building and clambered into Lestrade’s patrol car, forensics and other officers following behind. Sirens were soon blaring and while Sally drove, she saw Lestrade texting the Freak. She just shook her head and continued driving. After arriving, the scene was set up, and the Detective Inspector and Sergeant looked down at the poor man lying dead under a tree.  


Walking around a bit, Sally called back “Sir, it’s like he doesn’t even care that we’re finding the bodies. He’s gone to no effort to hide the victims”. “Excellent deduction Sally. It seems that you’re not completely useless after all” a deep baritone called out. Gritting her teeth, she turned around to the see Sherlock clad in his usual coat and scarf, the doctor following behind looking sheepish. “Sorry about that Sally, he is trying to compliment you” John sighed out. Sally just nodded at them and watched as the Freak set about his work with John, the both of them leaning over the body. Shaking her head and preparing for the onslaught, she thought about this case and hoped they would find evidence soon before the doctor found himself in too much trouble.  


*****************************************************  


Greg leaned over the body, mind still reeling from the information he had received earlier. Even now seeing the good doctor, he couldn’t believe it was true. Not only that, why had he never noticed or put the pieces together before now?  


Looking up the dead boy, he saw Sherlock walking over, John right behind him. Seeing him now, Greg could see how they all missed it. John was so sweet, caring, and tough hidden under soft jumpers he wore year round. ‘Ah, the jumpers’ he though ‘if these bodies are anything to go by, he probably hides the scars under them’.  


Shaking his head sadly, he stood up as the two men arrived next to him. “Sherlock, John, thanks for coming again”. John just smiled at him while Sherlock was already leaning over the body and looking around the scene making deductions in his head. Greg kept an eye on John throughout the whole thing. “John, if we could talk a moment after Sherlock finishes up, I’d really appreciate it”. He watched as John gave him a curious look before nodding consent.  


“Lestrade, Donovan was right about her earlier remark. He wants us to find the bodies. Most likely he’s sending a message to whoever his real victim is and things that they’ll see it where he’s leaving them. Cross reference people who might have seen all three scenes and you’ll find who the killer is after. Also, as you can see, he has the same physical features as the previous victims and even possesses the brand. This one is younger again, around 18 years of age. As with the last two, this man was also drugged and restrained, however the killer was less violent and the asphyxiation was soon after the sexual assault. It seems the killer is getting closer to making his move towards the real target. Hmm…recently enlisted in the army based on the new haircut and pristine dog tags. John, nothing more we can do here. Come along”.  


Just as he was leaving, John called back to him, “Greg needs to talk to me, you go ahead and I’ll meet you back at the flat in a bit”. Sherlock paused and turned around, giving the two a calculating look, gaze remaining longer on Lestrade who tried his best to keep his face impassive and expressionless. Sherlock just shrugged though and quickly hailed a cab.  


Greg left Sally in charge, gave her a look, and then pulled John over to a secluded spot where none of the yarders would overhear. “John” he pulled out the file Sally had given him earlier “We found this earlier, and the killer seems to match up. We don’t have any evidence though, and he didn’t kill last time so we can’t being him in”. He watched as John’s face puzzled over. “Why are you telling me this Greg? Shouldn’t you let Sherlock know?”  


Sadly, he responded, “No, John, because I think, and so does Donovan, that Jack Morgan is behind the killings”. Johns face froze and Greg saw his fists clench and unclench in an effort to remain calm. “Sorry Greg, but that’s not possible. He was put away for life”. This was said in a monotone while John continued to mask his features.  


“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this John, but he was let out last month on good behavior”. John just shook his head. “Even if he was, there’s no way he’d come back for me. It’s been too many years and I’m not the boy I used to be”. Greg knew John was in denial. “Well John, I know you don’t want to believe it, but the victims are too similar to you for me not to worry, so please stay close to Sherlock and for god’s sake be careful”. John just gave him a sad smile before turning around and walking away.  


Greg noticed he was now limping slightly as the doctor hailed a cab and climbed inside. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and called the one person he dreaded the most. “Ah Lestrade, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Mycroft’s voice wafted out of the phone calmly. “We need to talk” Greg answered quickly. “If this is about the good doctor, then I have already increased surveillance on him and Sherlock, and I have also placed a detail on Morgan”. “All right Mycroft, I’ll leave it to you, but if anything happens to John…” Greg threatened. “My dear Detective Inspector, if anything were to happen to John, it is not you I fear a wrath from”. And on that note, Mycroft hung up, leaving Greg to the crime scene and an uneasy feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to get up, I've been at camp with no wifi. Here you go though. Hope you enjoyed, and hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up within the next two weeks or so.


	5. Finding out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock eavesdrops and confronts John

Sherlock knew something was up with Lestrade and Donovan as soon as he arrived on the scene. He scoffed to himself. They should know better than to try to keep secrets from him. Hearing that Lestrade wanted to talk to John only confirmed that notion. After hailing a cab, he told the cabbie to drive him a block and then wait for him to come back.  


Rushing out of the cab, he spotted Lestrade pulling John to a secluded area. Sneaking closer and hiding behind a tree, he listened as Lestrade talked to John. As the conversation came to a close, all he could think about was this Jack Morgan. Who is Jack Morgan? Obviously someone from John’s childhood. Mycroft would know. But was it worth it to get a favor? Not yet. First he would ask John. Hurrying back to the cab that was still stalling, Sherlock offered an extra hundred to get back as quickly as possible.  


Luckily, he arrived before John and hurried up stairs where he pulled out his violin and started playing while looking out the window waiting for John’s return. Soon he could see the doctor climbing out of a cab, his limp pronounced as he climbed up the stairs to the front door. He watched John take a deep breath as if to center himself, then open the door. While John clambered up the stairs, Sherlock sat in his chair still playing the violin, this time with his eyes closed.  


John made his way to the kitchen and started water boiling for tea. Of course John would need tea after what he had heard. Tea was John’s solution to everything. Once he knew John was sitting across from him, and Sherlock had his own cup to sip, he gave John a calculating look. "John, what did Lestrade want to know?" Sherlock asked calmly, trying to ease John into the real question without frightening him into silence. "Just some questions about the case. I told him to bring them to you though" John responded.  


Sherlock watch as his right hand clenched tightly though. "Who's Jack Morgan, John?" Sherlock asked in the same tone as before. John froze. "Sherlock, I'm telling you here and now. Do not look into this. Please Sherlock. I don't know where you heard that name, but he's not important". John's eyes were dark with fright, and Sherlock decided not to push him. Worst come to worst, Mycroft or Lestrade would tell him. If Lestrade thought it was this Morgan person anyways, Sherlock would find him eventually and find out why John didn't want him to discover the truth.  


He decided to try one more time. "John, you know I'll find out eventually, wouldn’t it be better if you told me now?" he pleaded this time. John just stared at him for a couple minutes before standing up and retreating to his upstairs room. Startled, Sherlock jumped up. "John please, I'm sorry, I won't ask again". The doctor briefly paused, "I just need some time alone Sherlock, I'll come to bed later. Work on your experiment or something for a while", then he continued up the stairs, disappearing behind closed doors.  


Sherlock continued to stand there before sitting back down and steepling his finger, disappearing into his mind palace. Obviously John didn't know this person currently or within the last 15 years when he was in the army. Therefore he was a figure from John's childhood. But why would it be such a big deal Sherlock not know him? This man must have done something to John. Oh! Sherlock's mind raced over the victims. All sexually assaulted and branded, and all getting younger in age. A sign of the killers past victim who he thought of as a possession. Frightened, Sherlock tried to think about if there was any similarities to John and the ligature marks on the body or the brand itself.  


However Sherlock had never seen John's bare chest or back. Only felt the scars in the dark. Now, he tried to piece together what the grooves ad bumps he had felt might be from and where there exact placement was on John's body. Once he had a hesitant view in his mind palace, he blanched. No wonder John didn't want him to know. Sherlock might not be very socially conscious, but even he knew when not to blurt something out. And this was something he could not blurt out ever.  


A ringing sounded, notifying Sherlock of a text, and he pulled himself out to see who it was and what they wanted. All the victims suffered abuse from their parents when younger, either physically or sexually. Might be important. GL. Suddenly everything he knew about John shifted. Why he never talked about his family other than his sister. Why he rarely even saw her. Why he had joined the army as soon as he could. Why he even became a doctor. Why he was so caring. And now that Sherlock knew, he wished he could go back and delete this new information. But it was John, and he could never delete anything that had to do with John. Unsure of what to do, Sherlock did the only thing he could. He reached for his violin and played all of John's favorite songs, trying to provide as much comfort as he could without actually talking to his flat mate and love.  


*****************************************************  


John lay down on his bed. No no no no no. No it wasn't possible. HE was supposed to be in for life. And why hadn't he been notified upon release? Even worse, Lestrade knew, which meant Mycroft knew, which meant Sherlock wasn't far behind, if he hadn't already worked it out for himself. John buried his head in his hands and shook as quiet sobs wracked his body. His whole life he had been trying to escape from his past. Years of therapy and groups. It was why he ran away to the army for so long. He even hid his body so no one would see.  


But now if was out in the open. After the sobs finally stopped, John moved his hands away from his face and just stared up at the ceiling just thinking. A loud “Oh!” sounded from downstairs, and John knew that Sherlock had figured it out. Clenching his hands, he sighed. Now he would have to tell Sherlock. The detective needed to catalogue and record, and John knew he would see or hear everything eventually. It was better for it to be from him rather than Mycroft or Lestrade. He closed his eyes, mentally trying to prepare himself. John stayed like this until he heard Sherlock playing violin and knew he should go down and talk to Sherlock.  


Standing up, John made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, knowing he would need tea to get through this story. The mechanical tasks of brewing and steeping were comforting and calmed him down enough that when he sat in his chair across from Sherlock, he was ready to answer any questions Sherlock asked. As the final notes of the song drifted away, John watched Sherlock perch in his chair and fix John with a steady look. John just shook his head and sighed. “Ask away Sherlock. I’ll try to answer best I can”. Sherlock still just sat there, and John could practically see the questions whirling around the detectives head.  


Finally, Sherlock opened his mouth. “How old?” John just gave him a curious look. “I was eight when I met HIM in our local library. I was trying to find someplace safe where my father wouldn’t find me”. Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly at this. Then he steepled his fingers and continued his questions. “What did your father do?” “When he found out about HIM when I was thirteen? Or how he abused me?” John asked calmly. “Both” Sherlock responded.  


“Hmm…I was both physically and sexually abused by my father. But when I was thirteen and HE kidnapped me, father finally had a change of heart. Decided that he couldn’t live without me and knew that child services would be inspecting the house more often to make sure I was alright after I got back, so he cut down on the beating. The sexual abuse continued until I left for the army. It was easier to hide, see. It was also when he decided my hands and mouth weren’t enough” John spit out bitterly.  


“How long were you gone for” Sherlock said gently. “A little over a month” Sherlock just nodded at this. Then hesitantly and quietly he asked the next question. “What happened during that month”. John tensed visibly. “Sherlock, what I’m telling you, it doesn’t get spread around. You can’t use it to deduce me in the future or to ask for my opinion on future cases that are similar, or blurt it out at any point in any conversation”. John saw that Sherlock actually looked genuinely hurt. “John, I know that I am not the most…socially conscious…person ever, but I would NEVER do anything to hurt you” Sherlock responded gravely.  


Smiling grimly at Sherlock, he the closed his eyes and sipped some tea, mentally prepping himself. After a few minutes of silence, he opened his eyes and answered Sherlock’s question. “I was restrained the majority of time, and was…conditioned is the best way to describe it. Conditioned to do what HE said no questions asked. To only speak when spoken to. And most importantly, to provide for HIM any sexual needs HE had”. John watched Sherlock close his eyes, and when they opened again, anger sparked in them. Then Sherlock stood up abruptly, making John jump. Sherlock slowly walked over to John, and knelt down wrapping the shorter man in his arm.  


John felt everything bubble to the surface. All the pain, guilt, shame, and anger just flowed out and he barely noticed he was sobbing into Sherlock’s pressed shirt. “John, I love you. I love you so much. Your past is yours and I’m here for you. I love you no matter what happened”. John’s wracking sobs suddenly stopped, and he looked up at Sherlock with wonder inn his eyes. “You love me?” he whispered. Sherlock just held him tighter. “Don’t ask ridiculous questions”. John hugged him back, a smile now playing in the corner of his mouth. Then he tentatively pulled away, placing his hands on either side of the detectives face. “I love you too Sherlock. More than anything in the world”.  


Then John leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s lips. John could feel Sherlock smiling, and then deepen the kiss and soon they were both on the floor, Sherlock on top, snogging the daylights out of each other. So immersed in the kiss, that John barely noticed when Sherlock started tugging on his jumper, trying to pull it off. Panting, John placed his hands on Sherlock’s and pulled his mouth away. Sherlock just moved down to his neck and face. “Wait, wait, Sherlock”.  


Sherlock just continued, but then pulled back slightly. “John, I could care less about if you have scars. To me, they show just how strong you are. How you were able to survive despite everything”. Then he finally got the jumper and t-shirt off John, and the doctor could feel Sherlock’s steady gaze taking in his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to hold back the shame he could feel surfacing, his eyes prickling with tears. Sherlock would see it. See the brand over his heart. See the whirling scars scraped into his body with HIS nail. HIS attempts at art. The whip and cane marks that shone white on his tan skin. And finally the starburst gunshot wound on his left shoulder. He waited for Sherlock to pull back and tell him it was over. They were done.  


Suddenly, he felt lips on his skin and opened his eyes. Sherlock was kissing his scars one at a time, starting from his pants line and making his way up John’s toned abs and chest. John watched in awe, and when Sherlock reached the brand, a long digit traced it as well as lips. “This is utterly false” Sherlock’s deep baritone said strongly. “What?” John asked confused. “You do not belong to this M. You are mine, and I am yours. We belong to each other. Now and forever”. A giant smile crossed John’s face, and he started laughing. He pulled Sherlock’s mouth up to his and held him for a searing kiss. Then Sherlock pulled back and whispered seductively in his ear.  


“Let me show you all the ways we belong to each other” and then started placing light kisses around John’s mouth. “Bedroom” John said breathlessly. “With the lights on” Sherlock agreed. They made love passionately, Sherlock showing John how much he loved him and that he had nothing to be ashamed of. They slept naked together that night, and for the first time since John could remember, he felt comfortable in his own skin. Didn’t feel the need to scrub off his flesh or hide in the darkness. No. Now he had Sherlock. His love and light. With Sherlock by his side he had nothing to fear.  


**********************************************************  


Unbeknownst to the two lovers, Jack Morgan stood across the street, briefly looking up at the window before pulling up his hood and continuing down the sidewalk. Unbridled anger swept through him when he saw his boy and Sher…THAT MAN!…(he couldn’t even think his name without wanting to kill someone) kissing. John was his. His and no one else’s. How dare he let someone else touch him!? This was only additional proof that he need to act quickly before his boy was further corrupted. Anger continued to pump through his veins until he turned down an alley and saw his next message. A boy who looked 35 or so. He would be perfect. The perfect next placeholder. The last one until he would finally get to be with his boy again forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the late chapter, I haven't had time to write due to work and no wifi, but I'll try to get some done this weekend so I'll actually be able to update soon


	6. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Morgan preps for the next step and meets with someone new who may or may not have plans of their own.

Jack Morgan slipped into an alley, his eyes searching for his dealer. His foot tapped against the brick impatiently. This was his last step to finally capturing his boy. He had dropped his last place holder off for the police to find and now all that was left was the prize. Once he had the different sedatives and muscle relaxants, he would be able to retrieve John.  


Everything else was ready. The house was set up, the trail was buried, and he’d even grown a beard to make sure he was unrecognizable to most. He smiled just thinking about all the fun the two of them would have. They could finally be together forever.  


A tall man with short blonde hair and golden eyes approached Morgan, a second, shorter man following. “Just the usual” Jack requested, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket. The golden eyed man sneered and turned to the shorter one. “This is him Jim. I’ll leave you two to talk”. Morgan started slightly as his dealer turned and left the alley. He looked at the shorter man who sported black hair and dark brown eyes wearing a nice suit. “Jim Moriarty, hi!” the man sang holding out his hand. Jack hesitantly took it giving it a short shake. “Jack Morgan” he responded. Jim’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he laughed. “Oh, I know who you are Jacky. You’re the one who wants to take Johnny boy away from Sherly”. Morgan stilled. “Don’t worry, I’m the one who’s been behind the scenes making sure you get everything you need and burying your trail so the ice man doesn’t catch wind.” Jack gave him a surprised look. “Well thank you then” he said. Morgan watched as Jim started circling him. “hmm…you’ll do well for our Johnny boy. All I ask in return is one day with him so I can brag to Sherly”. Jim requested. Morgan hesitated. He really didn’t like sharing, but Jim was helping his a lot. “Deal” he agreed “but only once I’ve had him for at least a month. I need time to break him in again”. Jim frowned. “No, I rather think I want Johnny still fighting, knowing that his best friend won’t be able to save him from him”. Morgan sighed. “Deal. One week then?” Jim grinned. “I’ll call you and we’ll set up a date once you actually have the man”. Morgan just nodded. Then hesitantly he asked “the drugs?” “Of course! Sebby dear! Bring Mr. Morgan his drugs please”. The man from earlier came back into the alley and passed Morgan the drugs while collecting the money from him. Then the two men turned and left. Morgan tucked the bottles and pills into his coat pocket and then left the alley heading to his house to make the final preparations for finally grabbing John.

******************************************************************************************************************************************** 

Jim Moriarty considered himself a generous man. Psychopathic maybe, but generous if he was in a good mood. And once he had heard about Jack Morgan and his terrible separation from John Watson, he knew he had to help. Not only would this burn Sherlock, but he would win the game with the Ice Man as well. Mycroft would be too busy trying to find the good doctor to bother Jim or ruin any of his plans. When Sebby had handed him the file on John, Jim knew he would be able to finally have an ace. A way to beat Sherlock once and for all. Not only that, he would be helping a fellow criminal. Again, generous.  


A lot of planning had gone into getting Jack Morgan out of prison. For one, he was supposed to be in prison for life, and two, John would be notified if he got out. Also, when Morgan finally captured John, Jim would have to erase all traces of where they could have gone and hide it from Mycroft. But it would be worth it. Worth it to finally know he had WON.  


Ever since John had grabbed him in the pool house, Jim had been pleasantly surprised by the man. Brave but disregarded his own safety for others, just as quick to save a life as to take it. A contradiction that intrigued him. He knew that if this plan worked, Jim had to have his time with Johnny before he was broken. Jim wanted the man with his contradictions at their best, when he would still fight and try to deny what was happening. Licking his lips, Jim sighed in anticipation. Oh he couldn’t wait.  


Sitting in his office, Jim pulled up the surveillance in John. He just couldn’t get enough of the man. It was really too bad Morgan had to be involved for his plan to work out, otherwise he would just take Johnny for himself. Jim watched as John putted about the kitchen making tea. Ever since the pool incident, Jim had managed to place a multitude of hidden cameras all around the flat, including the two men’s rooms. It was ever so useful to see what the boys were up too. Especially since his John (not his John, his mind corrected) was ever so interesting. Keeping tabs on the two allowed Jim to be ahead of the game, always aware of the Sherlock’s cases and if he was getting into any of Jim’s businesses.  


Jim watched as John took tea to Sherlock, who was laying on the sofa in his classic thinking pose, and then proceed up to his room. John climbed the stairs and entered his room, setting his tea down and getting ready for bed. Jim eagerly stared at the camera as John pulled off his jumper and shirt, revealing the toned golden chest. Jim’s hand wandered lower as John continued to strip, soon revealing his compact body. John might not be in the army anymore, but it was obvious he kept in shape. As John walked around his room naked pulling out clothes and other things needed for a shower, Jim unzipped his pants and started stroking himself slowly and lazily. John grabbed his towel headed back downstairs to shower. Jim continued to watch, hand moving slightly faster.  


It was when John started the shower and started wanking himself that Jim lost his control. His hand moved faster as he imagined John beneath him, kneeling in front of him, screaming his name in terror and pleasure. John’s hand on him, or his hot mouth enveloping Jim’s cock. What finally got Jim was envisioning John wearing a collar with Jim’s name engraved onto it, chained to his bed, begging for Jim to fuck him while Jim carved his name into John’s flesh over his heart as he finally claimed him. Groaning, Jim came hard into his Westwood suit. His mind completely shut off as he continued to come into his hand. Only thinking of John could do that. Could silence the constant noise of his mind.  


Sighing, he grabbed a handkerchief and wiped himself down. He needed John. His plans would have to change. Jim would allow Morgan enough time to throw Sherlock and Mycroft off Jim’s track, and then he would get rid of Morgan and claim John for himself. Yes. This plan would work out perfectly. Grinning, Jim sat back in his chair, basking in the glow of the after effects of a mind blowing wank to what would soon be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again that this was late. Having no wifi and short breaks makes it hard to update. But I'm done with work in two weeks and I may have more time to write and update then! For now, expect another chapter in the next three weeks :) Enjoy and I hope everyone is having a great summer!


	7. Sherlock's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's Point of View. When Sherlock goes to meet Lestrade at a new crime scene, something isn't right.

Careful not to wake John, Sherlock quietly got dressed and then crept out of the room and proceeded to lay in his favorite position on the couch. Thoughts of last night consumed him and he smiled as he filed away every moment into his “John Room”. It was only the vibration of his phone that dragged him out of his mind palace. **There’s been another one, don’t bring John. GL.** Brows furrowed, Sherlock sat up and responded requesting where it was. After getting a response, he grabbed his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. “John!” he called out. Sherlock waited until he saw the sleepy doctor stumble out of the bedroom naked. Smiling softly, he followed the doctor into the kitchen. John putted around finding the kettle and teacups. “What is it Sherlock?” he asked as he put on the kettle to boil. “I need to go out for a bit and help Lestrade” Sherlock answered wrapping his arms around John’s naked body. He nuzzled his head into the doctor’s neck and gave him small kisses. “Let me go get changed then and I’ll come with” John said trying to get out of Sherlock’s grasp. “No, stay here and rest. It’s just boring details. Not worth your time” Sherlock replied. John turned around in his arms and crooked an eye brow. “You sure?” Sherlock smiled and placed a kiss on John’s lips. “Drink your tea. I’ll be back within the hour” Sherlock said. Then he place a last kiss on John and headed out the door.

Flagging down a cab, he texted Mycroft to put extra men on John. **Leaving the flat for a bit. Put extra protection on John. SH.** Not even bothering with an answer, he sat in his thinking pose as he waited for the cab to arrive. Once it did, he leapt out and approached the body. “It’s a bad one Sherlock. I’m glad you decided to keep John in the dark about this one” Lestrade announced in greeting. “Just show me the body” Sherlock retorted and followed the detective inspector.

As soon as he saw the body, deductions swirled around in his mind. _Blonde, blue eyes, military, aged 35-40, left handed, died from asphyxiation and suffered from extreme blood loss. Sexual assault, multiple times by a man. Very similar in appearance and attributes to John. No. Sentiment. Retreat. Kept chained in a room with minimal light for a few days. Malnourished. Why didn’t Lestrade want John here?_ _Wait, what’s that. Morse code. His body is rife with Morse code._ “Lestrade. It was a good decision to keep John out. I’m glad that I told him to stay at the fl……” Sherlock’s eyes suddenly grew wide as he processed the message. “Lestrade! It’s a trap! Hurry! We have to get back to Baker Street!” Then Sherlock leapt up and ran to the street hoping to flag down a cabbie. For the first time in his life they evaded him and when he was getting ready to just run back in his desperation, Lestrade came running up behind him. “Sherlock! What’s going on? What do you mean a trap?” Sherlock moaned. “John was the target. Always the target. Did you read the Morse code? Obviously since you told me to have him not come. Whoever it is was trying to separate us. Knew we would tell John not to come. Idiots!” He gripped his hair and started muttering to himself low enough so Lestrade couldn’t hear.

“Sherlock, we’ll go in my car. We’ll get there faster that way”. Sherlock followed Lestrade and slid into the passenger seat, not even complaining about going in a police vehicle. “Hurry Lestrade hurry. John’s in danger. John John John” he groaned out. Eyes wide with worry, he saw Lestrade’s grip tighten on the wheel and watched as the detective inspector disobeyed almost every traffic law and weaved through the crowd of people at high speeds. If he wasn’t so worried about John, for a few moments he might have been worried for his own life.

When Lestrade pulled up to 221 Baker Street, Sherlock didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before opening the car door and jumping out. He could hear Lestrade swearing and putting the car into park. He only slowed down when devastation greeted him. Bodies of men and women in suits lined the stairway and blood stained the wood. Holes from bullets littered the walls and ceiling. With dread, Sherlock avoided the bodies and climbed the stairs, not even noticing Lestrade following him and calling for back up. When he reached the flat and saw the door ajar he felt the blood leave his face. _John never leaves the door open_. Sherlock pushed the door open and took in his surroundings. An empty cup sat on the table by John’s chair, and if it wasn’t for the scuff marks on the floor or the discarded needle, Sherlock would have been convinced John was still in the flat.

Everything around him drowned out as his mind tried to process what was happening. _Knock on the door. John answered thinking it was Mrs. Hudson. Saw who it really was. Was so scared he couldn’t fight back? No, he put up a small fight before being drugged. Was carried out. Carried? Kidnapper a male. John. John. John. John. My John. I need him. Find him._ Overwhelmed, his mind finally crashed, and he felt his vision going black and the last thing he heard was Lestrade calling his name.

Sherlock felt light on his eye lids and moaned slightly before the mornings events came rushing back. Oh god. How long had he been out for? He would be finding John, not sleeping. Sitting up quickly he realized he was on his couch and he wasn’t alone. Mycroft sat in his chair, his trusty umbrella by his side and Lestrade stood next to him. Anthea, if that was her name this week, had tears running down her face and was typing furiously on her blackberry. Even Mycroft looked somber. “He’s gone” Sherlock said quietly. “I know” Mycroft replied. “We tried to get here in time but the perpetrator was thorough. He was prepared for everything. I’m so sorry Sherlock”. It wasn’t until he felt something wet hit his hand that Sherlock realized he was crying. Shakily, he reached up a hand and felt the tears streaming down his face in shock. He never cried.

Pained, he turned again to Mycroft. “Find him Mycroft. Please. I need him. I love him. Please Mycroft”. He pleaded over and over, not even noticing when his pleas turned into sobs and became incoherent. He saw Mycroft hesitate before standing up and approaching him. As tears continued to stream down his face Mycroft did something no one in the room expected. Leaving his umbrella on the chair, he approached his brother. Sherlock felt arms wrap around him and pull him close. Burying his face in his brother’s chest, he sobbed with abandon, reverting to his childhood when Mycroft used to comfort him. “We’ll find him Sherlock. I’ll do everything I can to find him”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. I had just finished writing another couple chapters when my computer crashed and I lost everything. It's taken me a bit to get a new computer and re-write everything, but I hope these couple chapters will be enough to tide you over for a while!


	8. Mycroft's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's Point of View. After seeing Sherlock's text he checks on John but something's wrong.

Sitting at his desk, Mycroft sighed as he rearranged the documents and read over them. The North Korean elections were approaching and he couldn’t get distracted. Too many things had been happening with Sherlock, and it kept setting him back. First the pool and Moriarty, next Irene Adler, and now this murder case Sherlock was working. At least Sherlock had gotten easier to deal with. Ever since John Watson had entered his life, Sherlock had become much more stable and less annoying. He actually considered Mycroft’s cases, and even the insults had reduced. Yes, the doctor was an excellent influence in Sherlock Holmes’s life and Mycroft didn’t want to even think about what would happen to Sherlock if something ever happened to John. However now the elections were getting closer and he had hoped to be done with everything by now. Pinching the bridge of his nose he continued to concentrate on the work putting his brother and flat mate out his mind. A ringing broke through his plans and he pulled out his phone. **Leaving the flat for a bit. Put extra protection on John. SH.** “Anthea!” he called out, waiting for his assistant to come in.

Mycroft quickly typed out a response to Sherlock. **Of course brother dear. Anything for the good doctor. MH.** He had just sent the text when Anthea entered the room, eyes glued to her phone like always and her hands typing quickly. “Sir”. “We need to send an extra team of me to 221 Baker Street. Sherlock’s going out and he’s worried about John”. Anthea stopped typing and looked up, brows furrowed. “Does Sherlock think something’s going to happen?” she inquired. “No, he’s just being over protective.” Nodding, she returned to her phone. “I’ll let the teams know immediately. Should I go with them sir?” Mycroft tilted his head in thought. He needed to finish the North Korean elections, but Anthea was the best agent in all respects. “Go. I know you care for John and will keep him safe. Before you go though I need you to process the plan for the elections. I’ll be done in 5 minutes. Send me a link to the video feed for Sherlock’s flat though and keep an eye on it yourself”. Nodding again she walked out the door leaving Mycroft to finalize his plans.

Not 5 minutes later he sent the details to Anthea and sat back, pulling the footage up on his computer. John was sat in his chair drinking a cup of tea and reading the paper. “Anthea, ready to go? Take the team and head over”. “Yes sir” she called out. His eyes stayed glued to the screen as he saw John suddenly look up at the door curiously. Unfortunately John and Sherlock had gotten rid of most of his cameras, especially those with sound. Something wasn’t right. He pressed a button that alerted his driver “I need a car. Be down in a minute”. Standing up, he pulled up the footage on his phone as he rushed down the stairs and past Anthea who was getting into a van with the team. “Hurry, something’s not right”. “Sir, I’ve just received notice that we are getting no response from anyone on our team posted at 221 B”. Face now pale, Mycroft hurried into the car and told his driver where to go.

He turned his attention back to the phone and watched with dread as John pulled open the door. Mycroft could only see the doctor’s back, but he noticed the immediate stiffening and then watched as John stumbled backwards and the door was forced open by a man. Eyes turning cold, Mycroft recognized Jack Morgan. How could they have all been so blind? The body Sherlock had gone to see must have been a trap. **Brother, John’s in trouble. Hurry back to 221B. MH.** After sending the text, he called for his driver to hurry, watching sadly as John put up a meager fight and was drugged. He watched Morgan lift John bridal style and carry him out of the flat. “Hurry!” he called out to his driver, knowing he was already too late.

It was 5 minutes later that he pulled up to the flat to see Sherlock and Lestrade rushing into the building. Anthea and the team arrived right behind him and they all followed the detective into the flat. They were greeted by carnage. Bodies littered the stair and ground and blood flowed freely. “John” Anthea said and ran up the stairs, her phone forgotten in her hand. Mycroft followed her up and froze when he saw the scene before him. Sherlock was passing out and Gregory Lestrade was trying to catch him and keep him awake. John. John was missing then. He walked solemnly over to Lestrade and help him left Sherlock and place him on the couch, then proceeding to sit in Sherlock’s chair and watch his brother. “So it was a ruse then. To get Sherlock out of the flat?” Mycroft inquired. Lestrade sighed, a guilty look crossing his face. “Ya, I should have realized it. There was Morse code on the body and I assumed it would worry John so I thought it would be best in only Sherlock came.” “What did the body have written on it?” Mycroft asked, generally curious despite everything. “Soon Johnny soon was burned into the man’s flesh multiple times” Lestrade told him grimly.

Mycroft only held off asking any further questions by the fluttering of Sherlock’s eyes and a moan escaping his lips. Sherlock sat up suddenly, and Mycroft could see the wild look in his red eyes, his face pale. Never had he seen his brother so distressed. He barely processed that Anthea was in the room crying and typing away on her phone. He only had eyes for his brother. “He’s gone” Sherlock said quietly. “I know” Mycroft replied sadly. “We tried to get here in time but the perpetrator was thorough. He was prepared for everything. I’m so sorry Sherlock”. Tears has started to fall down Sherlock’s face, and it wasn’t until a shocked look crossed his face that Mycroft realized Sherlock didn’t know. And that made it so much worse.

“Find him Mycroft. Please. I need him. I love him. Please Mycroft”. He pleaded over and over. Mycroft was shocked. He knew his brother’s feelings were strong for the doctor, but he didn’t realize they were this strong. It was in that moment that Mycroft remembered when Red beard, their old dog and Sherlock’s first friend had died. Hesitantly, he stood up and approached his brother. He sat down next to Sherlock and hugged him, pulling his brother against his chest not caring that his suit was being ruined by snot and tears. He rocked Sherlock back and forth like he used to when Sherlock was little and told him “We’ll find him Sherlock. I’ll do everything I can to find him”. He repeated this in a soothing tone until Sherlock’s sobs finally died down and he lifted his head to look at Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled at the fire he now saw in his brother’s eyes. Sherlock would find John, of that Mycroft was certain.


	9. John's Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. Sitting in the flat getting ready, John is unsuspecting of anything out of the ordinary.

Moaning at the loss of warmth, John blinked his eyes open as he realized Sherlock had left the bed. Sighing, he turned over and curled back up, trying to get at least another couple minutes of sleep before they were called off on another crazy adventure. Snuggling in the covers, he smiled as he remembered the care and consideration Sherlock had shown him. God how he loved the giant git. He could feel himself drifting back to sleep and let himself fall under.

“John!” Gasping, he sat up in bed and then immediately flopped back down. Sherlock. Sighing, he pulled back the covers and stumbled out of bed and towards the kitchen not caring that he was completely naked. Sherlock was by the door, wrapping his blue scarf around his neck already dressed and ready to go. He saw Sherlock give a small smile before John putted around finding the kettle and teacups. “What is it Sherlock?” he asked as he put on the kettle to boil. “I need to go out for a bit and help Lestrade” Sherlock answered wrapping his arms around John’s naked body. John felt the detective’s curls against the side of his face and a warm mouth place small kisses on his neck. “Let me go get changed then and I’ll come with” John said trying to get out of Sherlock’s grasp. “No, stay here and rest. It’s just boring details. Not worth your time” Sherlock replied. John turned around and crooked an eye brow. He may not be a genius like Sherlock, but he wasn’t stupid. “You sure?” Sherlock smiled and placed a kiss on John’s lips. “Drink your tea. I’ll be back within the hour” Sherlock said. Then he placed a last kiss on John and headed out the door.

John watched him fondly until he was out of sight then walked back to the room to at least throw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. Not that he was uncomfortable with his body, but sometimes Mrs. Hudson liked to drop by and he didn’t need her seeing everything, especially something he had now only showed to one other person. He came back out to the kitchen just in time for the kettle to whistle, and he poured the boiling water into a cup with English breakfast. While he waited for it to steep, he pulled out the milk and some biscuits. After a few minutes, he strained the tea and added in the milk. Grabbing the paper off the counter he walked over to his chair and proceeded to read and sip his tea.

Thoughts of this morning kept distracting him though. Why hadn’t Sherlock wanted him to come? Recently he had accompanied Sherlock everywhere, despite how menial and boring Sherlock thought it would be. So why not this time? Sighing, John pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe Sherlock was being considerate after last night. John was still a bit sore. That wasn’t like Sherlock though. Shaking his head, he got back to reading the paper, deciding this was a topic for another time when his brain wasn’t still waking up.

A knock at the door interrupted his reading and he took a quick sip of tea before setting down the paper and heading to the door. Mrs. Hudson sure was early. Usually she came by later in the day. Opening the door he started saying “Mrs. Hudson, you really shouldn’t ha…” only to stop short when he saw who was at the door. Everything in his mind went blank when he saw the man in front of him. His head started shaking and he could faintly hear himself whispering “no, no no” over and over. “Oh Johnny, I’ve missed you so much” HE said before shoving the door completely open. John could see bodies behind HIM before he stumbled back. It was when he saw a needle being pulled out of HIS jacket that John panicked. He couldn’t let it happen again. He immediately started kicking and punching, but his body was weak with fright and had reverted back to its’ 13 year old state, unable to fight off the man he hated beyond all others.

HE soon had the upper hand though, and John felt the needle prick into his neck and his vision started to get foggy. Arms raised, he tried to throw another punch, but his body didn’t listen. Instead his limbs fell limply to his side and his head rolled. Blinking, he tried to fight off the fogginess but to no success. Faintly he could feel himself being lifted and carried. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but suddenly John could feel cool leather against his skin and the muffled sounds of traffic. A familiar terrifying voice talked nearby but John couldn’t focus enough to register either what was being said or who was talking. The last thing he felt before succumbing to the darkness was a hand on his face caressing him cheek and then moving to stroke his hair. Then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to procrastinate on my essay and write a bit instead....yay procrastination!! Enjoy the chapters :)


	10. Jack Morgan's Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's POV. The time has finally come.

Soon soon soon soon soon was all that Jack could think about. Everything was going perfectly to plan. He was waiting in the alley on the other side of the building for Sherlock to come out so that he could finally retrieve his John. Pulling out his phone he streamed the footage from inside the building. He might not be Moriarty’s biggest fan, but he sure could be helpful. Morgan watched eagerly as Sherlock got up and dressed and headed to his sofa only to be distracted by his phone. Jack couldn’t hear anything, but Sherlock made it pretty obvious he was calling to John, and it was in that moment that Jack had no regrets about anything.

Seeing John stumble out of the bedroom in nothing at all was a thrill, but also made Morgan angry. How dare he sleep naked with the detective?! He was Morgan’s. Only Morgan could see him naked and sleep next to him. Shaking off these thoughts he continued to keep his anger and jealousy in check as Sherlock kissed and held his John. It was only the thought that John would soon be his that allowed him not to brake his cover and just kill the detective. Soon it was over though and he watched as Sherlock left the flat. After watching the detective flag down a cab and leave, he waited only another two minutes before pulling out a gun (again courtesy of Moriarty) and heading into the flat. As soon as he entered, he started shooting, killing all the agents before they were even aware of what was happening.

Suddenly nervous, he tucked the gun back into his jacket walked up the stairs slowly. How would his boy react? What would he say? Shivers crept down his spine. Oh was he excited. Approaching the door, he knocked and waited. He could hear John moving on the other side and that just excited him even more. It was when John opened the door and Jack saw his face up close and in person for the first time in decades that Morgan realized how real this was. He didn’t even hear John greeting Mrs. Hudson. All he could focus on was bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. When Jack saw John’s head start to shake and could faintly hear John whispering “no, no no” over and over, was Jack’s cue to finally take action. “Oh Johnny, I’ve missed you so much” he said before shoving the door completely open. Morgan watched as John’s face turned white and he stumbled back. Grinning, he pulled out a needle from his jacket. He saw John gain some sense back, but when John started to fight, it was weak and uncoordinated. This was too easy. 

He soon had the upper hand and gently pressed the needle into John’s neck. The drug was fast acting, and he could see John’s brow furrow as he noticed his vision was fading and adored the glassy look that came over his boy. When he tried to throw another punch and his body didn’t listen and instead his limbs fell limply to his side and his head rolled, Morgan just shook his head like he would a child, and lifted John into his arms bridal style. All that time in prison had kept him in shape and it was paying off now. Jack carried Johnny down past the bodies that now littered the stairs and placed him in the passenger seat of a car. After buckling John in, he quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.

Pulling out his phone, he made the call that he had promised. After only two rings, he heard the telling Irish lilt that told him Moriarty was on the other line. “I’ve got him” he told Moriarty breathlessly. “That’s my boy” Moriarty replied. “I’ll keep the cameras down for the day to keep them off you’re trail”. Jack sighed in relief. “Thanks. To show my gratitude, how about you come by Friday to get your turn with Johnny? It should allow enough time for us to get reacquainted but not enough for him to be completely trained”. He was being generous with his offer. Friday was less than a week away and he had been hesitant anyways about sharing. “Deal. I’ll see you Friday darling”. Morgan pulled the phone away when he heard beeping on the other line. Glancing at his Johnny, he noticed that he was still trying to stay awake. “Oh honey” he whispered as he place his mobile back in his pocket and then used the same hand to caress John’s cheek and then sifted his hand through the soft blonde locks. Oh how he had missed this.

It wasn’t long until they pulled into a garage in a nice suburban neighborhood and Jack parked the car. Whistling happily, he opened the door to the passenger side and lifted John out. He proceeded to carry John down to the basement where he had set up a special room for the two of them. A bed sat in the center of the room and cupboards lined the walls. Since he was in a good mood, he placed John on the bed and proceeded to cuff his wrists and ankles so he was spread eagle. Sighing in pleasure, Jack wished the drugs weren’t quite so good so he could start sooner. Having his boy so close was so hard. Moaning, he gave in and pulled John’s shirt up so that his chest was exposed. Compromise was key. He just wanted to feel his boy’s chest. See how he had grown. And oh had he grown. Taut muscles on his chest and abs shone golden with the tan, the marks he had once placed on his boy still showed prominently. The brand M shone over John’s heart and Jack traced it adoringly. Pink nipples contrasted the darker skin and it was all Jack could do not to lick and bite them. Only a line of hair adorned his boy from belly button to the line of his pants. Morgan wanted to see more, but no. Patience. Soon he would have all the time in the world. Running his hands over Johnny’s chest one last time, he then pulled John’s t-shirt back down. Sighing, he gave one last look at his boy before heading up the stairs to get some rest and food while he waited for the monitors to alert him that his John was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the last two points of views of John's kidnapping. Hopefully I'll have some time to write and then the real fun will begin...well...I say fun..........;)


	11. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes too and finds out where he is.

Waking up wasn’t easy. The last time John had been drugged this way was when Moriarty had kidnapped him and strapped him to a bomb. Therefore, as John fought against the bonds of darkness, his mind rebelled. Coming to was like trying to swim in corn syrup. You fought to move but was constantly held in place. All John’s mind knew was that he had to escape. Had to get away from the never ending darkness and confusion. It was the wiggling of his fingers and toes that marked the first step to full consciousness, and as his eyes blinked open groggily to a white ceiling and bright lights, his brows furrowed in confusion. _Drugged, you were drugged, remember_? His mind tried to supply him with a reason for his situation to calm him, but it only agitated John further. Bomb, mad man, and pool clouded his mind. What brought his mind back to order was when he tried to move and realized he couldn’t.

Moving his arms, he tried to rub his eyes, only to be stopped. Eyes shooting open, wide and now fully aware, John raised his head and took in his situation. Naked. He was naked on a bed. He was cuffed naked to a bed in a strange house. Racking his brain he tried to remember what had brought him here. If it were Moriarty he would have been there when John started to wake up. Flashes of memories suddenly assaulted him and his face grew pale and he started shaking slightly. HIM. HE had done this. A small sob escaped John as he realized the situation he was in.

No. He was an army doctor in his 30s for fuck’s sake. John would not allow himself to give in. Pulling against the cuffs as hard as he could, John attempted to free himself. John felt hot all over and the more he pulled the more sensitive his skin seemed to get and the fuzzier his mind became. Frowning after what seemed like hours with no success, John huffed a sigh and relaxed his muscles. Staring up at the ceiling he tried to distance himself from the situation. Sherlock would come for him. Sherlock would have realized he was gone by now surely and would search. John closed his eyes and pictured the detective, curly hair framing the long pale face. Cupid lips turned up in a smile only given to John.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. No no no. He didn’t want HIM to come. _Sherlock help_ , his mind cried out. Licking his lips nervously, John raised his head, not wanting to be taken by surprise. He heard the sound of a door opening and his eyes flickered in that direction. Unfortunately, it was dark where the sound had come from, so John couldn’t see the man currently in the room with him. His eyes darted around the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse so he could at least know something. John could hear his heart practically beating out of his chest, and sweat start to gather on his skin. He was panting, not even realizing how loud his breathing had become. John could feel the eyes on him and gooseflesh erupted in his skin. A moan filled the room and John’s eyes widened in shock. No. He didn’t want it. _Please go away. I don’t want it. Please._

Then HE finally stepped out of the darkness and into the light, and John wished HE would just go back. Anything to rid him of the view of lust filled eyes and the face of the man who had taken advantage of him. “Oh John. It’s so good to see you again, to have you so close. I’ve missed you”. HE said reverently. Closing his eyes and laying his head back on the pillow, John drew in breath, trying to calm his gasping. When John opened his eyes again, it was because there was a sudden dip in the bed. Hot breath caressed his face and a shiver escaped him as he looked up at HIS face, only inches away from his own. John jolted and tried to escape the man straddling him to no avail. “Oh Johnny, I’ve waited so long for this. I’ve dreamed of our reunion and all the wonderful things we will do together. Do you remember all the fun times we had together in the past?” At this point HE closed his eyes and let out a groan, obviously remembering the past. John just flinched. When HE reopened his eyes they were completely dilated. If John wasn’t sure why he had been kidnapped again, there was no doubt now. “I remember Johnny. I remember everything”. HE said breathlessly. Then one of his hands cupped John’s face and stroked his cheek. John shivered and leaned into the touch, only to furrow his brows in confusion. He hated this man. Why was he being so complacent? Regaining his senses, he tried to shake the hand off, but it only tightened.

“I’ve been waiting so long, but I can’t wait any longer John. My John.” HE groaned out. Then he climbed off the bed again and began to disrobe. John stared up the ceiling, trying to keep controlling his breathing and not pay attention to the man undressing next to him. “Now Johnny, if you’re a good boy we can make this easy. You want this to be easy don’t you?” HE asked. John ignored him, refusing to acknowledge anything had been said. A growl and a slap to the face pulled him out of his thoughts. “You WILL submit boy, and you WILL enjoy it”. John closed his eyes, but then nodded. The slap and tone had brought him back to when he was 13 and this had first happened. He was trapped in the past and the present, the two over lapping, and it wasn’t until he felt lips on his neck and a body pressed into his that he pulled himself back. John bucked up, trying to dislodge the man from on top of him. This only served to make HIM bite down on John’s neck, causing a sound of protest to escape the doctor. It was the hard flesh against his stomach that finally caused John to crack. Remembering that HE like to be called Master, John tried his hardest to stop HIM from continuing.

“Please master please stop. I’ll do anything else Master just please. I’ll be a good boy” John babbled, hoping that HE would just get off and leave him alone for a while. Tears had gathered in his eyes. John knew that he was a grown man. That he shouldn’t break so easily. But this. If HE held John too long, the doctor knew he couldn’t hold out. He was already still broken from this past and this would be the final push. Oh, he would still fight in his mind, but his body would submit. It had happened before and the training he had been given had never fully left him. To his shame, he could even feel himself grow hard under HIM and his body tingle with pleasure with each stroke the man gave him on his hips. His body still remembered the lessons. But it had to be something more. Even his mind was bending, and John had gone through enough torture to know that this had never happened so quickly before despite the circumstances. If Sherlock were here he would understand why John was having trouble fighting. Just as his mind started to connect the dots, a slight squeeze on his member brought him crashing out of those thoughts. Past training assaulted his mind instead. Being forced and kept at hardness. This was what HE wanted John to remember at this time. Laughter struck his ears and he felt his face go red in anger and embarrassment. “Oh Johnny, you do remember” HE breathed out, then continued kissing and biting down John’s neck, leaving dark marks and even piercing the skin on occasion.

John’s breath hitched as he felt the hand wrap around his cock and he bit his lip in shame as pleasure swept through him. _No! I don’t want this. Please stop!_ His mind continued to protest, but his body remembered too well the past. John saw a look of contentment on HIS face as he pulled back from his ministrations on John’s neck. “You taste so good Johnny. Better than I remember. I can’t wait to be inside you. Fill you up ‘till you’re bursting and begging for more. Do you remember Johnny? Do you remember when you used to beg for my cock? The feeling of emptiness when I wasn’t inside you?” John tried to block out the words, but they filled his head and squeezed his heart. _Oh Sherlock, I love you so much. I’m so sorry. Please find me before I’m forever gone_.

A gasp escaped the doctor’s lips as HE bent back down and swept a hot tongue over one of John’s pink nipples. HE then proceeded to bite and pinch and lick until John was writhing under him. Kisses and bites trailed lower and the hand never stopped stroking until suddenly his cock was enveloped in a wet heat. His hips bucked off the bed and tears of shame gathered in his eyes. He didn’t want this. John cursed his body for remembering, for not being able to fight it. A sudden tightening in his belly alerted him to his coming climax, and he tried to hold it back, to will it away. But his body wouldn’t have it, and just as he was about to cum, HE pulled off with an obscene pop and quickly placed a red ring around John’s cock. “Ah ah ah. You should know better John. You only get to cum when I’m inside of you and I’ve given you permission. Since you haven’t been a very good boy you’ll have to beg lots and lots. A fitting punishment.” John panted and writhed on the bed, struggling against the bonds. Whether to run or just pull off the ring he wasn’t sure anymore, his mind fogged by the oncoming of pleasure.

Then the cap of a tube could be heard popping off and John tensed, his erection forgotten momentarily. A wet finger probed at his entrance and he moaned in terror. “No master please. Anything but that” he desperately cried, hoping his use of Master would help. “I’m sorry Johnny, but I’ve waited too long to be put off any further”. John gasped in pain as a finger was then pushed past his ring of muscle. He could feel the stretching, felt as HE added two more fingers, felt the slightly dull ache that always accompanied this part of the act. Then pleasure. White hot pleasure spike through him as HE brushed against his prostate again and again in an unrelenting pace. Mind now completely empty, all John could do was give in to his body’ demands. It wanted to come, and it wanted more. One part of his mind still protested. Protested against giving in. But the continued flashes of pleasure overwhelmed this part and John didn’t even realize he was now begging. “Please master, I’ve been a good boy, please allow me to cum. I need to cum. Please please please. I’ll do anything. I need you”.

The doctor heard a quiet laugh and then moaned in despair when the fingers left his stretched and aching hole. “I’ve got you Johnny, don’t worry, I’ve got you”. He felt hands grip his hips tightly. Then John felt something hot at his entrance. Not a second later he was filled to the hole. Pain shot through him and he felt HIM move, not even allowing John to adjust. However HE was practiced. HE knew right where John’s sweet spot was and as HE pushed in and out at a rapid pace, panting and moaning, HE always managed to hit John’s prostate head on. John knew he was a babbling mess at this point, even when tears unbidden and unleashed from the part of John’s mind tried to fight and remind John who this was, what had happened. For some reason he couldn’t get his mind back to order. He tried thinking of Sherlock, but it was wiped away by the flashes of pleasure. Drugs, his mind supplied through the haze, he must be drugged with some kind of aphrodisiac.  

It wasn’t long before the movements grew more erratic and HE pressed his lips against John’s, dominating his mouth, nipping and sucking and biting as HE reached orgasm. Hot liquid spurted out and John could feel it coating his insides. He just wanted to come. He couldn’t care less about anything else at this point. “Oh Johnny, that was wonderful. Just as I remembered. But since you were stubborn, I think we’ll leave that ring on for a bit longer” HE whispered in John’s ear. John winced as HE pulled out, only to gasp in shock as something cold was pushed inside him. The doctor watched as HE padded over to a table in the corner and picked up a remote. For a brief second his mind focused, and horror and shame washed over him. He had actually been begging! He knew he had been drugged and his body didn’t have a choice, but he still had to bite back a sob. Then all John could feel was pleasure once more. A vibrator. “Noooo” he moaned out, his protests soon being over taken by gasps and twitches and moans begging for release, the drug once again taking control and overriding his consciousness.

Eyes unfocused, he watched in horror as Master, _No, HE_ , his mind corrected, walked towards the door and disappeared into darkness. “As much as I’d love to stay and watch, this is punishment my boy, and I have a few things to take care of. I’ll be back soon hopefully. Maybe if you’re a good boy when I get back we can see about that release” HE said before walking out of the room and shutting the door as John watched in dismay, soon brought back to his new reality of pleasure pain by the constant vibrations.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the lateness, I've been busy with midterms and it's hard to find time to just write :/ hope you enjoy the new chapter!


	12. Feelings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets questioned by Lestrade, John gets release, and Moriarty discovers something about himself.

Jack closed the door on John, happiness radiating off of him. Finally he had had his John again. Not only that, but it had been _glorious_. Everything he imagined and more. And he couldn’t wait to do it again. No, he needed to wait. John had to be trained and this was important. Even with the drugs, John needed to understand that Jack was his everything now. No one and nothing mattered except for Jack. Making John dependent on him would solidify this. Moriarty was a wild card, and Jack knew it might throw a short wrench in his plans. For now though, he would proceed as planned.

               Making his way to the kitchen, he pulled out ingredients and started making food for Johnny. He had to be kept well fed by Jack. This was a step in making John completely his. John would learn that Jack could take good care of him if he behaved. Humming, Jack worked on an omelet, adding vegetables and meat. Health was important. After the omelet was done, he poured cantharides on top, then crushed a pill and sprinkled it on top like salt. A smile broke out on his face. This was perfect. The drugs from the pill would keep John confused and make his mind susceptible. When paired with the cantharides, John would be hardly coherent from sexual desire, only knowing that Jack would take care of him. This was perfect. Soon, Jack wouldn’t need to use the drugs anymore and John would be completely his. John would need Jack and only Jack.

               Glancing at the clock he sighed. Time to go to work. He had debated quitting, but it would have looked too suspicious. Wrapping the omelet, he stored it in the fridge and then grabbed his coat. Jack placated himself by remembering it was only for a few hours. Only a few hours then he would be back with Johnny. Driving to work was calming, and even though he was tense leaving John alone for a few hours, the scenery of London and the music from the radio soothed him. With a high likelihood that detectives would be in to see him today, calmness and wariness were extremely important. Taking deep breaths, he pulled into a spot at the library.

               Taking a second to put on his mask, he stepped out of the car and went in the employee entrance. Smiling at his coworkers, he signed in and headed to the checkout desk. The evening was usually pretty quiet and it was his favorite time to work. He could catch up on reading and let his mind wander (most of the time he just thought about everything he would do to Johnny). Grabbing a new book off a shelf, he took a seat and started reading.

               It wasn’t long after he started that he saw the silver-haired detective from the news come in. Keeping his eyes on the book so he wouldn’t look suspicious, he waited for the detective to approach him. “Are you Jack Morgan?” Looking up from his book, eyes wide with confusion he replied. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” The detective pulled out his badge and flashed it quickly before tucking it away again. “Detective Inspector Lestrade. I just need to ask you a few questions about a case.” “Of course. Anything I can do to help” Jack answered smoothly.

               Jack closed his book and motioned for the detective to take a seat. After sitting, the detective pulled out a notebook and a recorder. “Do you mind? It’s just for reference.” Hesitating a second, Jack just nodded “it’s ok”. Smiling, Lestrade turned it on and started asking his questions. Jack answered perfectly to each one, and he could see Lestrade’s smile slipping. Obviously he though Jack was responsible. While he was correct, Moriarty had done a good job covering it up and letting Jack know how it was accomplished. “Just a few more” the detective told him. “Have you been in contact with John Watson since being released from prison?”

               A flash of amusement crossed Jack’s face before he could conceal it. Cursing himself for his slip up when Lestrade’s eye brows scrunched together thoughtfully. Hurrying to resolve the situation he answered quickly. “No, I haven’t seen Johnny since I was sent to prison after our wonderful time together”. Hopefully, anger would make the detective forget Jack’s slip up. It seemed to work. Lestrade flinched after this statement and Jack smiled in his mind. How interesting. Looked like Johnny was better friends with the detective than they let on. “One last question. We know you branded Mr. Watson when he was child with the letter M. Recently, there have been murders with men branded the same way. Do you know anything about this?” Looking horrified, Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry, murders? Oh no no. I may have been convicted for the rape of a child, but I would never hurt someone. I _saved_ Johnny. Besides, everything in my possession was seized upon my arrest. Therefore there is no way I would still have my brander”.

               “Thank you for your time, I’ll be in contact if we have any more questions we need to ask”. Jack smiled and stood up shaking the detective inspectors’ hand. “It was my pleasure. I’m only here to help” Jack said soothingly. He watched the Lestrade leave and his smile finally shone through. Laughing in glee he shook his head and picked up his book again. Too easy. The yard would never be able to convict him. Stupid the lot of them. And only 4 more hours until he would see Johnny again.

               Those four hours flew past and soon Jack was hurrying out of the building and racing home. Back in the kitchen, he opened his laptop and pulled up the live footage coming from Johnny’s room. He had to see if Johnny was ready. Giggling in delight he watched John writhing on the bed, begging for Jack to come back and let him come. Moans and please filled the speakers and Jack turned it up and just sat back with his eyes closed for a minute letting the noises wash over him. He could listen to this for the rest of his life. It was beautiful.

               Deciding John had enough torture for now (especially since Jack didn’t think he could hold out much longer anyway) he grabbed the omelet from the fridge and went down to John’s room. Opening the door he watched as blue eyes snapped open and Johns’ head frantically moved searching for him. “Master, I promise I’ve been good. Please let me come” he was greeted with. Smiling, he approached his boy, set down the omelet on the table, and stroked his boys’ hair. John leaned into the touch, his gaze unfocused. “Since you’ve been so good I think you deserve a reward. Do you remember the rules?” Hesitating, John responded. “I can only come when I have Master’s permission or when he’s inside me”. “Good boy. So if I take this lovely ring off will you come right away?” Again John hesitated. “No Master, I’ll wait. Just please. Please take it off” John pleaded again. Laughing, Jack reached down to the vibrator and pulled it out slowly, listening as John groaned with happiness. However just when he knew John thought it was over, Jack thrust it back in, making sure to hit his boy’s prostate. John screamed in pleasure pain. Taking pity on Joh, he pulled it all the way out and threw it in a sink in the corner to be washed later. His come from earlier oozed out slowly with it and he used two of his fingers to push it back inside, Johns features dismayed.

               “Tell me how you feel right now Johnny. Tell me what you want me to do and then maybe I’ll finally let you come”. He could see the struggle in John. The drugs were starting to wear off, but the pleasure was overriding any truly coherent thoughts John might be having. Less than a minute later John responded. “I feel so full from your come. I want more in me. Please Master, fill me up again. I want your warm heat in me, telling me who I belong too. Fuck me and let me come Master please. I’ll be a good boy I promise.” Smiling and stroking John’s hair again Jack finally conceded. “Very well Johnny. Since you insist.” Stripping out of his clothes, Jack climbed on top of John and pressed their lips together, dominating John’s mouth. Moaning, he grinded down, pressing their hard cocks together delighting in the friction. “Beg” he commanded. John wasted no time, his hips moving on their own trying to get more of that delicious friction. But Jack grabbed his hips and kept them steady. “Please fuck me Master”. That was all Jack needed before he lined himself up and thrust into John. He was tight. So tight and wonderful. He watched as Johns eyes screwed shut in momentary pain and then opened again. His chest was heaving up and down, breath harsh. Sweat glistened all over his body and Jack thought he could come just from the sight. Placing his hand on the cock ring, he paused. “You better not come right away darling” he warned. Then finally, much to John’s relief, he pulled it off. He could see John’s features contorting, trying to make himself not come. Smiling as his boy held it in, he continued to thrust, fast and efficient, stimulating the bundle of nerves in John. “I need to come Master, please” John gasped out.

               Jack could feel himself close and well and grinned. “Come Johnny. Come for me”. And John did. He screamed as he finally came, white stripes painting both their chests. Jack soon followed after another thrust, the tightening of Johns muscles with his orgasm adding that pressure Jack needed. He rode out his orgasm with shallow thrusts, filling John up once more. “Good boy” he murmured. Pulling out, he slid off John, grabbed a small plug rom the table and worked it in John. He then grabbed a flannel and doused it in hot water. He cleaned them both up quickly. John seemed out of it still, eyes at half-mast.

               “I’ve brought you food John, you need to eat to keep up your strength.” When he heard that, John finally seemed to come back to reality, the focus in his eyes returning and a look of horror crossed his face. Jack patted his cheeks harshly. “None of that now, I don’t want to have to punish you again” Jack warned. Fear lit up Johnny’s eyes and Jack could tell he changed what he was going to say. “Let me go Mr. Morgan. I have powerful friends and they will find me and kill you. If you let me go now, they might reconsider”. Peals of laughter rang throughout the room and he only laughed harder when confusion crossed Johns face. “Oh Johnny, you think I don’t know that? I know everything about you and your current life. And don’t worry, no one is going to find you. I have a powerful friend too. He looks forward to seeing you soon. Now, no more about this. You need to eat”.

               John seemed to struggle with himself, before deflating and nodding. Grabbing the omelet Jack brought it over. John raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at the cuffs. “Aren’t you going to un cuff me?” “No need Johnny, I’m feeding you.” John looked disgusted. “No. No no no. I’m a grown man and I can feed myself.” “Now John, you wouldn’t want to make me angry would you?” Jack could see the battle John waged with himself before sighing and opening his mouth. Jack fed him slowly. Another step in his plan accomplished. Not only that, but soon the drugs would kick in and Jack would have his fun again. Life was glorious.

***********************************************************************************

               In his office, Moriarty watched the interaction between the two through the cameras he had hacked. Throughout the entire encounter, a strange feeling had been building up inside him. No, it wasn’t just pleasure. Sure he had gotten off watching the two. John was hot, what could he say. It was something else. A different emotion. Frustrated, he called in Sebastian. His right hand man hurried in followed by a random minion. “Sebby darling, I’m going to describe a set of feelings and you’re going to tell me what it means”. He watched as Sebastian nodded in confusion. “Of course boss”. “Good. Whenever I see someone with another person I feel extremely angry. All I want to do is torture and kill people. It’s painful for me to watch this person with another person. Why do I feel this way?!” Sebby seemed to think it over for a minute before understanding dawned on his face. “Boss” he hesitated, “I think you’re jealous”.

               Jim’s face went blank. Then mad laughter rang throughout his office. Sebby and the minion looked extremely nervous and took slight steps backward. Jim abruptly stopped laughing, grabbed the gun from the top of his desk, and shot the minion. “Take care of it would you Sebby? Oh, and I’ve decided to move up our plans regarding Johnny boy”. “Yes boss”. Sebastian replied before dragging the body out of Jim’s office. Sighing, Jim rubbed his forehead. This was not good. He was not supposed to be getting emotional. At least the good doctor would soon be his. Nothing would keep them apart. Finally, he would have beaten Sherlock once and for all as well as gaining the prize of the century. Smiling maniacally, the criminal turned back to his computer and watched, knowing Jack Morgan’s time was limited.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I've been trying to do every other week updates, but life keeps getting in the way. I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter and hopefully I'll have something out soonish! Feel free to leave comments, they actually do motivate me.....


	13. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quick update...

Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since an update, I promise I'll try to get one out soon. I burned my hand and haven't been able to type or write all that much these last weeks. Luckily I'm on break for the next two weeks still so hopefully I'll be able to write more. Thanks for being patient with me, and hope everyone had a great holiday season!


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